


The Creature from the Frozen Marsh

by Ganelon8



Series: Böðvarrs ek Höttrs saga [2]
Category: Hrólfs saga kraka, Icelandic saga
Genre: Actual Saga Dudes™, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Necromancy, Norse Court Life, Romance, Skalds, monster fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganelon8/pseuds/Ganelon8
Summary: There are rumors of a strange monster attacking villages at the edges of King Hrólf’s lands, so he sends his new champion Böðvarr and his new sorcerer Höttr to investigate and fight this monster. There’s a bit of traveling, a bit of monster fighting, and some kissing along the way.





	The Creature from the Frozen Marsh

The morning had been peaceful in a way that would have seemed impossible a month earlier. Hrólf had no immediate need for his new champion berserker, so that left Böðvarr free to spend his time as he chose, and he chose to seek out Höttr. They were sitting right next to one another, close enough that their sides were pressed up together, and the weight of the arm around his shoulders holding him close made it hard for Höttr to keep a smile off his face.

They were talking quietly, and Höttr had his book out. Böðvarr freely admitted that he couldn’t read even his mother tongue, but he was looking at it with interest and asking about the illuminations of plants and process for making various potions.

“Have you made everything in this book, then?” Böðvarr said.

“Not everything, but quite a lot,” Höttr said. “Most of the, um, poisons I’ve never made.” He had made one, once, but not since.

“That’s still a lot of recipes in here,” Böðvarr said. “Do all the things you need for making them just grow around here?”

“Some do, but not everything,” Höttr said. “Some of these herbs and ingredients can only be obtained through trade, since they will only grow in places far from here that are warmer. But there are sometimes things that can be substituted, and there is a lot that can be done with what we have here and a little magic.”

“And what of these? Does the serpent behind them signify anything?”

“These flowers are said to get their colour, and the resistance to poison that they give when ingested, from the venom that falls from the fangs of a snake.”

“You know so much,” Böðvarr said, shaking his head slightly with a little smile on his lips. “I cannot imagine how you remember it all.”

“I wasn’t alone, so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. I had a teacher who helped me learn all of this. You’ve done a lot more than me, and you’ve been so many places.”

“I’m a warrior. It’s been at the behest of my previous lord,” Böðvarr said. “Going somewhere when you’re told to fight is something many folk do.”

“Was… that why you left? And why you’re here now?” Höttr said.

“Part of it.” Höttr felt Böðvarr roll his shoulders, and heard a bit of a pop. “Not all of it. I also wanted to help people, not just kill people. So, I ended up here.”

“You helped me,” Höttr said after he was silent for a moment. Höttr’s voice was barely above a whisper, but Böðvarr heard easily enough and smiled. The hand on his shoulder gripped him tighter for a moment, and he shut his eyes as Böðvarr leaned closer to kiss him.

“I’m happy to help you. And you help people, too, better than I ever could,” Böðvarr said.

“I try to help,” Höttr said, looking away from Böðvarr to the book.

“You do. It’s admirable.”

Höttr shrugged. He turned the conversation away from himself, and it remained as easy for him as it had been before.

Perhaps an hour or so later, King Hrólf entered the hall past the midday meal, with the skald Sigríður Steinarsdottír a few steps behind him. Everyone present moved to acknowledge him, but Hrólf waved them all down. He called the skald up to his side, and Sigríður quickly fell into step with the king. She was not a big woman, certainly not one of the skalds who enjoyed also participating in the battles they sang of, but she was an older woman with grey streaked through her brown hair, one who had survived many of those unwanted fights. She had a short sword and dagger at her belt, and wore a dress that looked more comfortable than fancy. She and Höttr had spoken often the few times they had met, and he liked her.

Hrólf and the skald speaking animatedly in hushed tones near the head of the hall was hard to ignore, even if it was impossible to make out what they were saying.

Böðvarr glanced to Höttr, who shrugged, since he had never been someone who offered counsel to the king. They went back to talking to one another, but when Hrólf waved them over they stood and walked over.

“My lord,” Böðvarr said, bowing. Höttr belatedly copied him, impressed once again by the court manners the warrior could simply produce upon request.

Hrólf nodded to Böðvarr, then said, “Sigríður, tell them what you told me just now.”

“Gladly, my lord,” the skald said, glancing across her new audience. “I heard tell from the far reaches of King Hrólf’s lands here, in the marshes and wastes that lie frozen beyond the most distant farmsteads—”

“Plain speech now, Sigríður, if you can. There will be time for you to compose a verse later,” Hrólf said, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled a little to show he intended no offence.

Sigríður grinned and said, “Of course. I heard tell of a beast of some kind making its way from the marshes and bogs to the west. It is a massive creature, with wings and a taste for destruction which it leaves in its wake. It is neither man nor animal, though I know not what it is. But it feeds on chaos and blood, and it has been sighted nearer and nearer to the hall here.”

Hrólf nodded again, but this time to Höttr, who immediately stood tall under the king’s attention. “Höttr, do you know anything of such a creature, and whether it be of the natural world or magical in nature?”

“I… am afraid I would need to know a little more about it, but I could try and find out, once I had more information,” Höttr said. He tried to keep his voice steady, but he had never really spoken to the king before, and he was afraid he was about to commit some breach of etiquette.

Hrólf seemed satisfied with this, though he said, “We shall need to get you this information, then. Now Böðvarr, I have heard that you have slain men and monsters alike. Have I heard true?”

“You have, my lord,” Böðvarr said. He was not smiling as he spoke.

“I will have need of these skills,” Hrólf said. “You will lead some scouts to investigate this creature. If you can, destroy it, but not if it will result in the party being killed. We need to know what this creature is if we are to fight it effectively. I will assign some warriors to you.” Hrólf turned to Höttr, and said, “And you will go with them. Your powers might be more effective against the creature than mere steel.”

“Of course, my lord,” Höttr said. He looked at Böðvarr, who smiled. He smiled back. He had never been sent on such a mission, but until Böðvarr, he had never really been in the king’s notice, either. That had been fully intentional, since staying out of sight of the leader of the warriors who had often mocked him seemed like a good idea. The king had also moved around a lot between his holdings, and Höttr wasn’t part of the retinue, so he’d remained in place with the same unpleasant group of warriors. He was beginning to form a new idea of Hrólf, though, and the king seemed to be a fair enough man. Still, he hoped getting sent on such missions wouldn’t be the new normal for him, even if he did feel more comfortable with Böðvarr going as well.

“Do you wish me to go as well, my lord? I would be happy to act as a guide,” Sigríður said.

“That would be wise,” Hrólf said, nodding at the skald. “We shall all miss your songs while you are away, but it will give one of your apprentices a chance to practice in front of an audience.”

“I’m just glad to hear you all won’t be pleased to see my back!” Sigríður said.

Hrólf actually smiled at that, which started Höttr a bit, since the king was usually a very unemotional man. “Oh aye, we’ll wait to badmouth you until you’ve actually left the hall. Now then, I’ll leave you all to making preparations for leaving. Böðvarr, your party will await you outside the hall in two hours.”

After Hrólf had left, Böðvarr turned to Sigríður and said, “I am Böðvarr Bjarki. I do not think we have spoken before.”

“That we haven’t. I’m Sigríður Steinarsdottír, and I’m sure you never would have guessed that I’m one of our king’s skalds,” she said, smiling at her own words and she shook his hand. “I’ve been away for a time, so we wouldn’t have met sooner. Though from what I heard, you made quite the entrance when you arrived!”

“It was unintentional, I assure you,” Böðvarr said.

“Well, it makes for a good story nonetheless,” the skald said. She was still grinning, and the lines that crinkled around the edges of her eyes only added to the general friendly bearing she had.

“In terms of supplies,” Böðvarr said, changing the subject probably due to a desire to not be the centre of attention, “I can take care of spare weapons.”

“I’ll pack my bags and have some medicine, and supplies for spells,” Höttr said.

“I’ll get the food then,” Sigríður said. She and Höttr would both be in the same storeroom for a time, so they all parted after Höttr big farewell to Böðvarr, and walked briefly into the dry cold outside the hall.

“Other than the monster, how was your trip?” Höttr said, glancing towards the skald.

“Well enough, though it’s always nice to be home again,” Sigríður said, stretching her arms as she walked. “I had been sent as diplomat to Hrólf’s mother. I don’t know if you heard that part.” Queen Yrsa’s husband, Hrólf’s step-father, had recently died, so Yrsa was the sole ruler of her kingdom now. Hrólf had gone to see his mother with an official embassy, but as well as being his mother, her kingdom was also one of his strongest allies. The story went that Hrólf’s actual father, who had never married his mother, was King Helgi, who had been a bloodthirsty leader of his own warband. Hrólf had always seemed to get on well enough with his step-father, though, and Höttr didn’t know very much about the truth of any of it, but there would always be stories for good and ill about a king.

“I thought that you had gone back,” Höttr said. “Is the queen well?”

“She’s sad, but that’s to be expected. Some of her lords thought this would be a good time to get an edge politically or perhaps be her new husband, but Queen Yrsa will surely be surprising them all when she rules for another twenty years on her own!” Sigríður said with a laugh.

“I can picture that,” Höttr said, smiling a bit as well. He had seen Queen Yrsa once or twice, and never spoken to her, but from what he had heard of her, he liked the queen.

“Now then, Höttr, what’s this I hear about you and Böðvarr?” the skald said, opening the door to the storeroom.

Höttr ducked in before she had a chance to see him blush, and immediately went to where some herbs were hanging to dry. She was as short as he was, so it would be easy enough for Sigríður to stare him down, but this felt like talking with a parent about such a personal matter. “I don’t know, you hear many things,” Höttr said, reaching up to pluck a bundle down from a beam.

“Clearly, but you two looked awfully cosy when I walked in with his lordship,” Sigríður said.

“And then you had to go and have us get called over for this task,” Höttr said. That made her laugh, which made him untense his shoulders just a bit. “Well, we’ve been spending a lot of time together since he came to court, and I rather like him. He’s also pretty fond of me.” It was hard to believe that it had been just under three weeks since they had met, but it was.

“Oh, is he? You sure sound as though you rather like him,” Sigríður said with another chuckle. “I hope he knows that you can turn his head inside out or bind his spirit to a rock, if you ever need to.”

He shook his head, and said, “I won’t need to, but yes, he knows a little of my magic. Böðvarr is very kind, Sigríður, since being a warrior doesn’t mean one just immediately lose all gentleness.”

“True enough, but I’ve known plenty of warriors who’ll seem as amiable as a butterfly until you piss them off, and then they’ve turned into the famed bear again,” she said, hopping a bit to perch on one of the barrels.

“That’s true enough, but I know Böðvarr a bit better than you do,” Höttr said, and the skald agreed to that. He asked her more of how her trip had gone as they both searched for the supplies they had promised to bring. Before an hour had passed, they were walking back to the hall after taking their time in the storeroom, and parted to each put together their own pack. The hardest part of packing for himself was deciding whether or not to bring his one book. If he brought it, it could possibly get ruined, and if the whole team got lost or died, the book might never make it back into someone else’s hands. But if he left it here, it might become very necessary on the trip and its absence would be keenly felt. In the end, he put it atop the spare robes he was packing, deciding it was better to have one more thing to carry than to later wish he had brought the book along.

He didn’t expect to be the first person outside the hall when it was time to leave, but Höttr was just glad that he wasn’t the last. Böðvarr was speaking with two other very heavily armed individuals, both of whom were most likely some of the warriors Hrólf had said he would assign them. As soon as he saw Höttr, Böðvarr smiled and waved him over.

Höttr felt a little embarrassed as he did walk over, but when he was standing at Böðvarr’s side, he lost that worry. The two warriors were not ones that he was familiar with. One was a man closer in age to Hrólf than Böðvarr and himself. His hair and beard were long and braided, and there was a deep scar running up along the side of his face, clearly visible even through the tan left from a summer at sea. The other was a very tall woman, younger than the other warrior, with a cleft chin and very pale green eyes. Her hair was shorter than her fellow’s, but hung in a thick braid to the side of her face, with an undercut that was starting to grow out on the other side.

“I do not know if either if you know Höttr,” Böðvarr said after he and Höttr had exchanged their own greeting, “But he will be coming with us as well. These are Starólfr and Hrafnhildur, some of the king’s champion berserkers.”

“It is good to meet you,” Höttr said, wondering if he ought to bow.

“You as well! Böðvarr has already spoken a bit of you already, so I was looking forward to meeting you,” Hrafnhildur said. When she smiled, she showed all her teeth, like a wolf or bear, but from the crow’s feet that appeared at the edges of her eyes, she simply smiled ferociously.

“I hope it was nothing bad, my dearest friend,” Höttr said, and Böðvarr laughed.

“I have nothing bad to say of you,” Böðvarr said.

Before he could respond to that, Sigríður was calling to them from across the yard as she strolled over with another warrior, this one smaller in stature but making up for it with sheer breadth of shoulders, chest, and arms.

“Glad to see you’ve not left without us!” Sigríður said as soon as she and the warrior stood in the ring. Introductions were made again, for her and Höttr with the warriors who had not yet met. The man the skald had been walking with was named Svipdagr, and the name seemed familiar to Höttr. The man, as one of Hrólf’s champions, undoubtedly had been sung of in the hall before, possibly by Sigríður herself.

“Shall we be taking some horses out, or going by foot?” Starólfr said.

“We’ll take horses to get to where this beast was last sighted, then travel by foot when we are closer, in hopes of taking the creature by surprise,” Böðvarr said.

They all agreed, and since he had already gotten permission from Hrólf, they took the horses from the stables. Everyone but Höttr and Sigríður had their own, Böðvarr’s being the rather large and infamous horse he had initially stabled right next to the king’s own steeds. Höttr and his horse stared at each other for a moment, the eyes partly covered by the shaggy fur that fell from the start of the mane into its face. He had to sheepishly ask one of the stable hands for a block, because even though the horse wasn’t especially tall, he wasn’t especially confident in his ability to get up. Starólfr might have glanced back and saw him getting up with the block, which was a bit embarrassing, but it was less so than falling onto his face. Even from the smaller height than some of the extremely large horses the warriors rode, it was still daunting to be up so high on the back of another creature, since it had been a while since he had ridden.

They set off, with Hrafnhildur and Svipdagr in the lead. Starólfr took the rear guard, just in case, which left Höttr riding with Böðvarr in the middle, Sigríður behind them plucking at an instrument as they rode along. The day, while being cold, was bright, since the sky was cloudless and without wind. The sun overhead made the snow crunchy rather than hard, and kept their faces from totally freezing.

They rode along without incident, and when it came time to stop for the night, it didn’t take long for them to find a decent place to stop. Höttr had a brief but stressful moment of panic wondering whether Böðvarr would sleep near him, as they had taken to doing normally at the hall, or if they ought to remain professional since Böðvarr was technically leading this mission. That fell right out of his mind when Böðvarr came and sat right next to him on the fallen tree, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

Höttr leaned into the warm embrace, and let his eyes shut. Sigríður offered to play everyone a song or two, and Svipdagr was protesting with a laugh that they had heard her all day along their ride, so they needed some peace and quiet now. They bickered for a while, which was entertaining for both them and their audience, and when they had settled down and everyone had something to eat, they talked for a time to determine what their plan would be for tracking the beast.

“Sigríður will take us to the village where it was last spotted,” Böðvarr said. “From there, we ask where it has been seen going and track it down.”

“Hrólf said just to track this beast and get your sorcerer close enough to observe what the hel it is,” Starólfr said, “But if it comes to it, would it not be better for us just to slay the creature here, while we know where it is?”

“Our orders were to only attack if it won’t result in our deaths,” Hrafnhildur said, glaring out over her drink.

“Aye, but let’s say we do get attacked,” Starólfr began.

“Make sure I’m far enough away that it doesn’t go for me if you all die, but close enough that I can see everything and compose a verse or two about it,” Sigríður said with a chuckle.

“We won’t be provoking an attack here if we can help it,” Böðvarr said. “Hrafnhildur is right; we need to follow our orders. We will fight this beast if it looks like a fight that we’ll have a chance in, and I don’t like to leave the villages here at its mercy.”

“This creature flies, so we will need to be careful when we approach anywhere near it, since it will most likely be able to easily catch up with us,” Höttr said.

“So, when you say approach stealthily to not get attacked and have the beast fly off with us in its maw, you really mean it,” Svipdagr said, nodding a bit. He had such a serious look on his face as he spoke, that Höttr had to try not to smile. Sigríður was not successful in that.

“I’ve fought monsters before, but never one that flies,” Böðvarr said.

“What have you killed, then? We know of how you joined our lord’s band, but not much of you from before!” Starólfr said.

“Trolls, mostly,” Böðvarr said. “Where I grew up, we were nearer the mountains than the sea, and giants came down a few times as well.”

“You must have been quite a ways away if giants were still brave enough to harry where you lived,” Hrafnhildur said, frowning a little. “There aren’t many lords who still have troubles with giants now, since most have made peace, live far enough away, or have had their champions kill enough that the giants fear to return.”

“There’ve been no more for the last, what, seven years?” Böðvarr said.

“Come now, you don’t expect us to believe you’re above thirty,” Sigríður said with a laugh. Next to her, Starólfr too chuckled. They certainly were the oldest here.

“I’m not. If I’ve not kept a very poor track of the years, I am twenty-four. I began serving my last lord when I was very young,” Böðvarr said. Since Höttr was sitting close enough to him to nearly be on his lap, he could feel Böðvarr’s arms tense just slightly. Rather than say anything, Höttr took Böðvarr’s hand that wasn’t on his shoulder and raised it to his own lips. In a voice low enough for only Höttr, Böðvarr said, “Thank you, my dearest friend.”

“Why, you’re certainly young enough now, so I can barely picture you then! You’ve got more than enough years to convince old Sigríður to write you your own verse,” Starólfr said, grinning at the skald, who laughed. 

“This creature… it couldn’t be a dragon, could it?” Svipdagr said, frowning as he looked towards Höttr. Apparently, he hadn’t been as concerned with Böðvarr’s age very much, and was more concerned with the monster. The more he spoke with Svipdagr, the closer in age Höttr thought they were.

“If it were, we would have heard of the countryside going up in flames, surely,” Hrafnhildur said.

“One would think,” Höttr said, shrugging a little. “Unless it were some sort of dragon that breathes ice rather than fire.”

“Is that even possible?” Starólfr said, brow furrowing.

Höttr shrugged. “I do not know, but by all accounts, neither does anyone know what this creature is.”

“It could be possible, I think,” Böðvarr said slowly. Höttr had to tilt his head back to properly look at him, but that was easily enough done, and he didn’t want to move out of his embrace. “There are many things with some magical influence that do not behave the way we think they ought to.”

Höttr agreed to that silently. His own powers were not what he had hoped they would be, when he first began learning. Sure, he could brew potions and heal folk somewhat, but that was not where his talent truly lay. He remembered his old teacher speaking of similar enough things, and of the myriad of creatures, magical and not, that walked the lands which most humans would never see.

They all spoke a while longer, and Sigríður did end up performing a few songs for them all, before they did go to bed. They decided on a watch before everyone settled down. Höttr and Böðvarr had their bedrolls together in a way that layered the top blanket for a bit of extra warmth, and even though the ground wasn’t exactly comfortable, Höttr found just being near him made it easier to fall asleep.

They set off early the next day. They rode in the direction of Queen Yrsa’s lands, and Sigríður guessed it would be perhaps a week’s ride to reach the villages near where the creature had been sighted. The land they rode through was forested at first, then fields, which finally grew lower as they neared another stretch of coastline, which they rode alongside for a time. The sand was frozen in places, dusted with white snow. The sky was always grey, the ocean was a dark, dark green, every wave capped with white. This near the sea, the wind was colder, and Höttr mentally thanked his parents for the new clothes they had given Böðvarr to bring him.

The days of travel were different enough from how Höttr usually spent his time that they were interesting at first. It was nice seeing more of Hrólf’s land, and any time spent with Böðvarr was good, but he ended up making plans with Hrafnhildur and Starólfr for half the time. Svipdagr was a genial enough traveling companion, and happy enough to talk about life traveling as part of Hrólf’s retinue.

“But you’ve now joined, haven’t you?” Svipdagr said after answering one of Höttr’s questions.

“I thought I had just joined his war band,” Höttr said.

“You’re his only sorcerer, so he’ll want to keep you close, I’d wager,” Svipdagr said, voice a bit low as though he would get scolded by the other berserkers for sharing this information.

That made sense enough. “Truthfully, moving around sounds rather nice. I can’t say I’m fond of the hall where you all met us at,” Höttr said. The idea of battle appealed less, but he didn’t say that part aloud.

“It’s a bit bleak there. And besides, our lord wants Böðvarr in his champions, so you’d go with him, right?” Svipdagr said.

“I would, yes,” Höttr said, glancing Böðvarr’s way even now.

On the fifth day, they veered a bit more inland, and the land grew softer, turning more into marshlands. It wouldn’t be long now, Sigríður said. She spoke true enough, and around when they were looking to stop for supper on the sixth day, they arrived at the town. It was winter, so this far north the sun had long since set, so the town was entirely dark but for some light from the central hall, which was the only place lit at all in the darkness. The village was small enough that even Sigríður had a hard time remembering its name. When they approached, they were met by a pair of villagers acting as guards outside it, who stopped them.

“Who are you, and why have you come here?” one of the guards said.

“My name is Böðvarr Bjarki,” he said, dismounting and stepping forward. Lit poorly by the firelight coming from the hall, he appeared more menacing that normal, and his face, cast in shadow, lost all of its usual good humour. “These warriors and myself have been sent here by King Hrólf to find the monster that has been seen near your village.”

Each of the guards stood straighter at the mention of Hrólf. “You are all welcome here,” they said, and one of them called in to a young boy to take care of their horses. The party was all shown in, and from the looks of the scene that greeted them and the lack of light elsewhere in the town, it appeared that all the villagers had moved from their homes to all stay in the hall together. The building was older than most of the others in town had looked, and the elaborate carvings suggested that perhaps this town had once been of more importance than it now was.

“You are all very welcome here, and we shall share what food with you that we have,” a very old woman said. She introduced herself as Guðrun, and was one of the village elders.

They all thanked her, and answered questions from her and the others about news of Hrólf and the rest of the lands as they ate. When they were through with questions, then Böðvarr and Sigríður asked their own questions of the creature.

“It’s been living out in the marshes, flying over and stealing our livestock!” a middle aged woman said.

“It goes after people, too, if they’re out in the open,” a young man said, with a little too much enthusiasm.

“It’s not caught anyone yet, not in this village, but not for lack of trying. It got a few of the folk from the last town over, when it was still making its way to the marshes here, and before anyone knew that it was coming this way,” an old man said.

“It’s wingspan is as wide as this hall!” one man offered, but everyone else called that out as false, though it did seem to be a large creature even so.

“We sent someone to Queen Yrsa as well to beg for aid, but we are thankful for your return with these warriors, Sigríður Steinarsdottír,” Guðrun said to the skald.

“Hrólf is a good man, and takes after his mother,” Sigríður said with a respectful nod.

“My granddaughter, Ásta, will act as a guide for you all, and bring you to where the beast was last sighted,” the old woman said. A young woman at her side, who had been listening to everything but not adding anything herself, nodded at this. “Ásta was one of the first folk here that the beast tried to take, but she got away, thankfully. She saw where it flew off to.”

“Other than a large wingspan, what does this creature look like?” Höttr said to Ásta.

“It’s got some sort of tough hide on it, no fur at all,” Ásta said, her eyes a bit wide. She was probably around fifteen years old, if not a bit younger. “And these great big claws. It could pick a person up with them. Maybe not someone that big,” she said, with a glance to the warriors, “But it probably would try anyway. It’s picked up really big sheep before. It’s got these big teeth, too, and it’s always hungry.”

“It doesn’t sound like anything I’ve seen before,” Höttr said uncertainly.

“Have you hunted a lot of monsters?” Ásta said, her eyes widening further.

“I haven’t, but they all have,” Höttr said. He didn’t want to say in a village this small that he was there as a sorcerer, not a warrior. Small villages, he had reason to know, were not always fond of magic and its practitioners.

They spoke with the villagers for a time longer, Sigríður offering to play some songs for them all as well, but went to bed after a time. The party was put up in the great hall. Höttr found it hard to fall asleep that night. He kept imagining the creature tearing its way into the hall and attacking them in the night.

He was already lying awake by the time Böðvarr was stirring. Höttr snuggled a bit closer as Böðvarr stretched a little, and kissed him. 

“Good morning,” Höttr said, smiling a bit as Böðvarr blinked his eyes open.

Böðvarr smiled at him, and said, “Morning,” before Höttr bent down to kiss him again. 

Everyone got themselves armed and had something to eat, before heading into the pale morning light with Ásta. The girl was wrapped up in a few layers, but still looked as though the wind was blowing through her. She didn’t seem to mind, though, and was seemingly delighted with Hrafnhildur, since she was sticking close to the warrior. 

“It goes back into the marshes this way,” Ásta said, already trying to keep her voice low as Böðvarr had warned everyone. They followed her as the land grew frozen with the water that was held within it, though parts of the marsh still looked to be wet and flowing. 

The warriors were all silent as they walked along, and already had weapons unsheathed. Höttr hung somewhat near the back with Sigríður, who had out a shortsword and was looking a bit more anxious than the others. She caught him glancing her way, and gave him something similar to her usual grin, which he tried to return. 

They came to an area of the marsh where some trees were growing, thick and grouped together. The morning sun still wasn’t illuminating that area, and it seemed a bit of an ominous blotch on an otherwise ordinary frozen marsh. 

“In there, or else a bit beyond, is where the creature goes,” Ásta said, pointing towards the grove. 

“Thank you,” Böðvarr said. “If the beast is angered, it may fly towards the village, so perhaps best that you do not head off on your own just yet. Sigríður, if you stay back to guard Ásta, that would be good.”

“I will do so happily,” the skald said, and the girl fell back to stand near her. They found a somewhat hidden spot along a ridge to duck under and wait. Höttr gave them both one last glance before he moved forward, feeling the bunches of herbs and potions at his belt for the tenth time on the walk to make sure they were still there. 

“I can go in, to try and lure it out here,” Svipdagr said.

“If its a flying creature, we’ll do better fighting it in a closed spot like that grove,” Böðvarr said. “We should go in.”

With weapon still drawn, he lead the way into the grove, Hrafnhildur at his side. Svipdagr was a few steps behind them, and Höttr realized Starólfr was waiting so that the sorcerer wasn’t at the rear guard, so he went forward next. 

Despite Höttr trying to keep his footsteps quiet, he still found the crunchiest patches of ice out of everyone. He tried not to wince whenever he made a sound, especially since the warriors were all moving so quietly. 

After perhaps a minute, Böðvarr and Hrafnhildur stopped. Böðvarr motioned for them all to come up and they did as the two in the lead bent closer to a tree. There were enormous gashes in the side of its bark, which did not look to have been made by a sword. There were four of them, one above the other, and dug deep into the tree.

“Ever seen something like this?” Starólfr said in a low voice, glancing towards Höttr.

“No,” Höttr said, shaking his head. 

“Stay wary,” Böðvarr said, as he and Hrafnhildur started moving again. Before they left the tree behind, Höttr put a hand up to the gashes. They were spaced apart in a way that suggested the claw of the creature that had done this was easily larger than his hand’s width, perhaps as wide as two. 

They were even quieter as they moved again, and this time Höttr’s breath caught whenever his foot caught on the ice. 

In the quiet, all the sounds from further out in the marshes seemed loud. There were a few birds that called, now and again. There was the sound of a small animal shaking one of the tree branches overhead. And then, there was a snapping sound. 

That made everyone freeze in their tracks.

The sound continued, and there was something wet about it, and a louder sound of something hard cracking together. After a motion from Böðvarr, the group advanced very slowly to see what it was that was making the sound. 

In a clearing up ahead, perched on a dead tree that had long since been split in a storm, was an enormous beast. Like Ásta had described, there was no fur on this creature, but rather a tough looking hide. It was hunched over, and if it stood upright it would perhaps be the size of a man and a half. The pair of wings resting on its back looked to be of much thinner material than the rest of the hide. It had a long curved snout, with jagged teeth poking from it. Its eyes had vertical pupils, more like a goat’s than a lizard’s, and were yellow. The snapping sound had presumably come from the bones of its latest meal, since there were a few feathers now poking from the side of its mouth. 

Höttr’s eyes were wide as he stared at it. Never had he seen something like it before, and, as his mouth went dry, he hoped that he never would again. 

“Should we take it while it’s busy?” Hrafnhildur whispered, already reaching for her bow rather than greatsword.

Böðvarr nodded, and said, “On my count.”

The warriors all reached for bows rather than the swords or axes they held. Böðvarr quietly stabbed his sword into the ground before him rather than sheathe it, and he glanced back at Höttr, who nodded.

As Svipdagr reached for his bow, he tried to mimic Böðvarr by stabbing his sword into the ground as well. Unfortunately, the sword wasn’t steady, and as soon as he pulled his hand back, the blade wobbled, and toppled to the ground. The creature whipped its head around to find the source of the noise, and its eyes locked onto the group. It opened its maw and let out a hiss.

“Now!!” Böðvarr shouted, letting his arrow loose. Rather than aim for the face, he changed his shot to the left wing, to prevent it from flying well. The bolt lodged there, and the creature reared back, the other two arrows bouncing ineffectively off its thick hide as it twisted and crawled forward onto all four clawed legs. 

The group scattered as the monster advanced. Böðvarr and Starólfr made to flank it, Hrafnhildur and Svipdagr notching more arrows as they ran around it to try and get clear shots. Höttr ran the other way, circling around it and trying to keep quiet, which was rather hard since he was starting to mutter a spell under his breath. 

As Böðvarr and Starólfr cut at the monster, some of the vines that had been frozen and dead underfoot began to unwind themselves, and wrap around the monster’s back legs to hold it in place. It felt the vines tightening though, and leapt forward with a roar, snapping the vines and trying to take Starólfr down with the same leap. The old warrior was able to sidestep it, but barely. Starólfr grunted as the claws still scratched his arm, and he used the moment to try and stab the beast from another angle.

Now that the vines had begun to move, it was easier to keep them going. More of them were rising up as well, and winding around the creature’s legs, trying to slow it down as it slashing at the warriors. That slowed it down enough for Böðvarr and Starólfr to keep out of its way, but they were still having trouble making real contact when they hit it. 

A few arrows from the volley Hrafnhildur and Svipdagr were keeping up found purchase on the creature, but most fell harmlessly to the frozen ground. 

The creature began to beat its wings. Rather than using them to fly, it was steadying itself with them, and it leaned back, snapping the vines that were holding its front legs. It fell forward onto Böðvarr, claws surely piercing in places through the chain, and trying to bear him to the ground. Böðvarr shouted, and tried to push the creature back. He was strong, but the thing was stronger. Hrafnhildur leapt from the vantage she had claimed, and joined Starólfr in trying to shove the creature back and slay it, as Svipdagr renewed his efforts to shoot its wings into immobility. 

Höttr held back a cry of his own, and let the spell that controlled the vines fall. There was more he could do here, if he could get the spell correct. There was no time for a second chance, so he uncorked one of the vials at his belt that was filled with a liquid that from the outside just looked dark and vicious. He upended the whole thing down his throat, its pungent scent quickly filling his nose as it fell thickly down to his stomach, a slightly metallic taste left on his tongue. 

Trying not to gag from the potion, Höttr felt a new energy surge through him. First, he helped Böðvarr with a surge of strength to push the beat away. With a massive bellow, Böðvarr shoved the beast away, and it fell a few steps away, looking something like confused. 

That was a good start, and it gave the warriors a chance to get in closer from all sides. It also gave Höttr a moment to take a deep breath, and feel a dark energy well up from his core, stretching into his fingers and toes. When he breathed out, the air was no longer puffing out before his mouth, and something that felt like static was crackling in his fingertips. The next spell that he cast made his mouth and lips feel dry, and the monster immediately began to wither. It lost mass in its legs and body, and the process was undoubtedly painful for it let out a long, keening shriek. The sound made Höttr want to clap his hands over his ears, but he managed to finish the spell. 

With the monster weakened from the spell, it made the new speed difference between it and the warriors more apparent. They were able to take it down from there without Höttr needing to cast another spell, which was good because he felt light headed from the last one. 

A final, strong slash brought the creature to the ground, and as it fell, Höttr had to fight not to fall to his knees. 

After a moment of silence, there was a cheer from the warriors. Hrafnhildur grabbed Starólfr into a bear hug, and Böðvarr looked over to Höttr, who smiled back a bit weakly. Böðvarr was over in a second, hugging him as well and lifting his feet off the ground.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Höttr said, staring down at him for a moment. He remembered the claws cutting down past the chain shirt.

“I’ll be fine. But are you alright?” Böðvarr said. Höttr nodded, since the dizziness would pass, and shut his eyes as Böðvarr kissed him, deeply, even as he was still held aloft.

As soon as he was on his feet, Svipdagr was clapping Höttr on the shoulder and saying, “Was that you with the vines? That was so good!”

“Was that you, making the beast weak?” Starólfr said, and he sounded less enthusiastic than Svipdagr about the magic. 

“Yes, both times were me,” Höttr said.

“If you can drain the life from a beast like that, then you must be a necromancer,” Starólfr said, blanching a bit even as he said it. 

“Yes, I am,” Höttr said, trying to stand a bit taller. He felt too tired to have to defend himself right then, especially since he had just used a lot of his own energy to aid in the fight.

Böðvarr glared at Starólfr and said, “Höttr is a good man, and I’ll not have you speaking ill of him or the magic he uses.”

Starólfr met Böðvarr’s gaze for a long moment, before muttering something under his breath and stalking off a few feet.

Höttr looked over at the other two, to see what their reactions were. Hrafnhildur just shrugged her wide shoulders, and said, “We’d best bring the creature’s head back with us, then pick Sigríður and Ásta up on the way back. They must be wondering where we got off to by now.” She loped over to the creature’s body and knelt down by it, Svipdagr following her a moment later after a reassuring smile towards Höttr. 

“Magic is a tool, neither good nor evil, just as a sword has no morality but for its wielder,” Höttr said in a low voice.

“I know that. And anyone who knows you would know that you’re a good person,” Böðvarr said.

Höttr smiled just a little at that, and said, “Thank you. I feel more like a tired person, after using all that magic.”

Svipdagr let out a cry, and they glanced over to see the blood pouring from the creature and melting the frozen ground from the gash Hrafnhildur had cut across its throat. Höttr walked over knelt next to the creature’s body and unstoppered one of the potion bottles attached to his belt that was empty. He caught some of the blood and stoppered it once more. When he looked up, Hrafnhildur just looked bemused and Svipdagr looked mystified by what he was doing.

“It’s to study later,” Höttr said, even though neither of them had asked.

“Glad someone’s got a use for this carcass,” Hrafnhildur said as she stood, heaving the massive head up with her.

“I believe that’s everything here. Shall we head back to Sigríður and the village?” Böðvarr said, and the warriors assented. 

This time, there was no need for stealth as they walked. Hrafnhildur and Svipdagr strode in the lead, grinning as they bore the head. Starólr was a few paces behind them. Böðvarr matched his stride closer to Höttr’s, who was still feeling the effects of all the magic he had used in the fight. As they walked, it was easy enough for Höttr to reach out and put his hand in Böðvarr’s, who gave him a reassuring squeeze as they went. For the first time, with Böðvarr here at his side, he found himself looking forward to returning to the hall.

It didn’t take them long to find Sigríður and Ásta, who were delighted to be filled in on what they missed. From there, they began the trek back to the village, and later, back to Hrólf’s hall.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based of the second 'adventure' of these two in Hrólfs saga kraka, where they do fight a monster, but rather than Höttr getting to be a magician dude it's a transformation story of him eating the monster's heart and becoming a buff warrior dude who conforms to society's hypermasculine standards (and he doesn't even get to speak to animals from eating it, unlike Sigurðr). I changed it up a bit since magic is cool lol
> 
> I've got some more story ideas for these two, based off various plot elements that weren't explored to the fullest in the saga.  
> I hope you enjoyed this story!


End file.
